How it Was
by LJTonks
Summary: There is no easy happily ever after for the traumatized survivors of Voldemort's War. After years of loss and pain, Harry struggles to find his place in a world that no longer needs him to be the Chosen One.
1. Harry

_Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to these characters._

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For the first time in months Harry woke up alone. His entire body ached and a dull pain in the back of his head tugged at his eyelids, holding them closed. Colors danced in the darkness and he felt nauseous as he realized that he had no idea where he was. He had to open his eyes.

His head swam. Green and gray twisted together in a swirling mass above him. _Sit up_. The back of his head was slick. He could smell the blood. Vomit rose in his throat. He swore under his breath and clutched the bedpost beside him, bracing himself as he bent over the side and heaved. His eyes and nose burned. Again. He tried to swallow. Again. Tears streamed down his cheeks and slowly, the room came into focus.

He was in a four-poster bed, heavily laden with faded emerald bed curtains. No wonder it was so quiet. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and tore off the covers. The rush of blood in his ears was deafening. He didn't hear Hermione until she was just behind him, one comfortingly cool hand on his bare shoulder and the Marauders Map in the other. Right, he remembered. He'd put it in that bloody beaded bag of hers before- before what? He remembered his walk to the dungeon. He remembered bracing himself against the wet, stone walls as exhaustion finally overtook adrenalin and his legs threatened to give way beneath him. When had he last slept?

There had been fireworks. He remembered how they lit up the sky in a bizarre show of celebration as people tended to their dead and injured below. He remembered the Weasley's, huddled around Fred's body. He remembered Tonks and Lupin, laid side by side in the great hall and he thought of Teddy. Hermione was moving her lips frantically without sound, her face contorted with concern. Her grip on his shoulder tightened. He was going to be sick again. He leaned forward and she released him. He felt the bed shift as it was relieved of her weight and he was alone once more. The rushing in his ears began to subside.

When he opened his eyes again Hermione was standing beside him with a glass of water and… Ginny. His cheeks burned. He could hear Hermione now. She was nearly shouting. "Harry, look at me. Can you hear me? Harry!" He nodded; still not ready to speak. "I'm going to find a nurse," she said. She handed the glass to Ginny and hurried from the room, casting anxious glances back over her shoulder as she went.

Ginny climbed into the bed and made him drink. When he was done she removed her sweater, dampened the sleeve, and wiped the back of his head clean, surveying the damage intently. He turned to face her and saw how exhausted she looked. Her eyes were red from crying, her skin waxen and dirty. Her hair was tied back in a matted ponytail, revealing a series of deep cuts along her jaw and down the side of her neck. She leaned into him then, pressing her forehead against his unshaven cheek, leveled by the weight of his gaze. "Harry," she whispered. "You're ok. You're ok." He wrapped his arms around her.

"I'm ok," he promised.

"I'm ok," she echoed.


	2. Ginny

"We deserve a vacation," Ron asserted.

"We should stay and help."

"Why? We didn't make this mess. Let the war criminals do it! I for one would love to see Malfoy do some manual labor."

Ginny rolled her eyes. They'd been having this argument for days – ever since people had begun volunteering to stay behind and repair the castle – and it didn't seem to be going anywhere. "We should stay near home, Ron," she chided. "Mum is gonna want us close." She knew she was right. Her mother had come undone since Fred's death, prone to bouts of crying and panic. At the very least she would want them within apparating distance; though Ginny had a feeling she would rather they stay at the house where she could watch them. She understood that Hermione needed to go to Australia to retrieve her parents. She even understood Ron's wanting to go with her. What she did not understand was why it had to become a three-month long excursion when their mother needed him. When _she_ needed him.

"I'm staying," Harry announced, lifting his concussed head for the first time since they'd sat down. It was a warm spring day. Sunlight poured through the gaping hole in the Great Hall's ceiling making the serving platters shine.

"Harry, I really think everyone would understand if you wanted to take some time and go home…" Hermione let her sentence trail off, realizing her mistake too late.

"Home? Where exactly is home, Hermione?" His words sounded sharper than he'd meant them too. His friends stared at him, taken aback. Pain flashed in his unfocused eyes. He couldn't stop. "The Dursley's? Or maybe 12 Grimmauld Place? I'm sure the Death Eaters left some of that shit hole standing for me. Oh! Ron, you think I could borrow that tent again? Maybe ill pitch it in a field somewhere for a while." Hermione's eyes began to water.

"Ay! Shove off!" Ron snapped.

His face softened. "I'm sorry," he said sheepishly. Hermione squeezed his arm and he turned to look at Ginny. "If you're staying, I'm staying," he said quietly, lowering his head again and plunging his spoon into his porridge. Ginny tried to hide her smile behind a forkful of eggs but there was an undeniable pleasure in this small victory. She was not surprised – they had been practically inseparable since the fighting ended and neither of them wanted that to change. It was so good to have him back, no matter how grumpy he was.

"I think ill take my breakfast to go" Ron huffed, pushing away from the table with a heaping plate of pancakes in his hand. Hermione snorted but, after a moment, said goodbye and followed him out. Ginny watched Harry push his food around in silence. She knew he was struggling. He hadn't been sleeping and he was growing restless. She rubbed the back of his neck absently as she returned her attention to the day's paper. He reached up to take her hand in his – his touch still made her skin tingle.

After a long moment he stood, letting his spoon fall into his still-full bowl of porridge. "I'm going for a walk," he said. He kissed the top of her head, shoved his hands deep in his pocket, and disappeared into the unending masses moving to ad from the hall. He was going to the Headmaster's office: it was the only place he went without her. She didn't ask why. She didn't have to. She knew he was going to talk to Dumbledore – to root through the collection of knick-knacks and gadgets left behind and spend his day swimming in other people's memories, looking for answers. She knew she wouldn't see him again until dinner, or maybe later that night when he would crawl into her bed shaking, and covered in a thin layer of sweat. She shook her head and reached for another piece of toast.

Luna plopped down beside her, the bells on her robes jingling wildly. "Good morning!" she piped cheerily. Ginny smiled at her and passed her the pitcher of pumpkin juice. Luna would be staying to help repair the castle and Ginny was pleased for the company.

"I'm going hunting for Prickly Plums!" she announced with a bounce that set the bells jangling again. "Would you like to join me?" As was so often the case, Ginny hadn't a clue what her friend was talking about, but she found herself nodding her agreement, inexplicable excited by the prospect. "Excellent!" Luna cried a little too loudly. She hastily buttered a piece of toast, shoved it in her mouth, and produced a large sack from beneath her robes. She shook it open and began to fill it with breakfast rolls from the table. "For the wood nymphs" she explained, catching Ginny's bewildered look. Ginny made an "o" shape with her lips. She somewhat doubted that Wood Nymphs had any particular preference for breakfast rolls but decided to plums and wood nymphs but she decided to keep that to herself as well.

They left the Great Hall in a hurry. High noon was the best time to pick Prickly Plums, Luna had informed her, and it was nearly eleven already. They walked toward the edge of the grounds and into the Forbidden Forest and Ginny had the distinct feeling that Luna had followed this path many times before, breaking school rules in pursuit of some strange fruit no one had ever heard of. They walked for about an hour, chattering idly and dropping rolls as they went. It struck Ginny that she couldn't remember the last time she had been so happy.

Finally they came to a stop. Luna knelt before an enormous tree and dug her finger into the dirt around at its base. Ginny watched for a moment and then bent to help her dig. Within minutes they had uncovered a tangle of oddly shaped roots, dotted with wide spikes and deep purple in color. _Plum_ Ginny thought to herself. They were not hanging fruits as she had expected. She giggled; why had she bothered to speculate at all? One by one Luna freed the roots with a strange, stubby knife and placed them in her now-empty sack. She beamed at Ginny. "We've gotten an excellent haul today," she said.

"Yes!" Ginny agreed. She still had no idea what these roots were for but they had certainly collected a lot of them. Luna handed Ginny a particularly thick hunk of root.

"They're a marvelous bath additive," she chirped. "Superbly calming. They also make for quite a nice tea!" Ginny thanked her and put it in her pocket. She wasn't terribly interested in "Prickly Pair" tea, but a bath sounded excellent. They headed back the way they came and reached the grounds in the late afternoon. The rolls were gone.


End file.
